


Father Figure

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Cooking, Coulson loves Skye, Coulson's father is on the Index, F/M, Family Secrets, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, Parallels, Phil trying to ply Skye with food again, Skye figured out Coulson's secret, Skye loves Coulson, Skye teasing Coulson about his sexual past, Talking around problems until they're not talking around them, fathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, post 2x13 feels.  I think Coulson's father was on the Index based on Cal going to the place Phil's dad taught/coached High School and his tech buddy hacking the Index.  And all the connections in between as a result.  And shipscuses and smut lite.</p><p>Title from the George Michael song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father Figure

"What's that supposed to mean, anyway?" she asked. "'I was hoping it was wings'?"

He didn't say anything, just sat across from her, watching her eat.

When it came to her father, he was going to keep his mouth shut. About how much he hated his guts, anyway.

After everything she'd been through, for her father to say that to her?

What an asshole.  He didn't even _know_ her.

"Does this have another 'secret ingredient'? she teased, prodding at the roast chicken with her fork.

"You like it?" he asked, watching her nod eagerly in reply. "Pollo a la Brasa," he said, attempting the pronunciation. "Something I picked up in Peru..."

" _Oooh_ ," she said, lifting her fork to her mouth. "A Comandante Reyes Special?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and smiled politely.

" _Classified_..." she started, pointing a finger at him.

"Another friendly during my time there," he interrupted, shifting slightly in his chair.

"Hmm," she said, dismissively, sounding a little bored.

He had just opened his mouth to speak before she cut him off.

"You always finish before me," she said, looking at his empty plate. "Why is that?"

"Because you're doing most of the talking," he said, leaning forward, his arms on the table.

"I'm just...processing," she said, putting her fork down. " _Director_."

"Can we talk about this?" he asked, frankly.

"About what?" she said, raising her voice, looking down at her arms. "That I'm a freak and now I'm in a body cast because I can't control what's inside of me? I didn't ask for this."

He shut his eyes, trying to push out images that were attempting to flood his mind. His own memories.

"How about you?" she asked, staring back at him. "You want to talk about why my father chose your hometown?"

Tilting his head at her, he hesitated for just a moment before saying, "Whitehall. He's angry that I killed him. That's all."

"Got that part," she said slowly, pushing her plate away from her. "He said as much, right?"

Coulson sat back in his chair with a sigh, resting his hands on this thighs.

"You're not telling me something," she said, searching his eyes.

"I can't protect you," he began, "If you're not going to let me in."

She raised her eyebrows, looking away at the walls, understanding the underlying threat in his words.

"Why _are_ you still trying to protect me?"

"Why?!" he asked, offended. " _Skye_..."

"Coulson," she said, putting her arms against the table. "I've been trying to protect everyone from _me_. Why _don't_ you want to lock me away? I'm dangerous. Just like one of those freaks my father..."

"I hate your father," he blurted out.

"I know," she said, looking back at him quizzically, watching him nervously swallow. "I would think you were _crazy_ if you didn't."

"He's not a good guy, Skye," he said, wringing his fingers together, as she studied him moving. "He wants you to be dangerous, like him."

"You don't think I am," she stated, all calm and collected.

" _No_ ," he said, staring down at his hands, noticing the movement and stopping it.

He glanced up towards the walls. The camera up there. All that technology. Peering into every second of their lives. Because they were SHIELD.

He knew one place there wasn't any.

  
***

"You're _so_ ridiculously tidy," she said as he shut the door to his room. "It's like a museum to tidy. Impressive."

Coulson did not look amused at her attempt to lighten the mood.

She felt nervous then, glancing about at his room, looking over the spare quarters. 

"You asked me why your father chose my hometown," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

He was keeping his distance from her, standing closer to the door.

"My father was on the Index."

Her eyes widened at the confession, thoughts instantly making so many connections. The GH-325, Mike and Ace Peterson...she understood.

"This has to be hard for you."

He seemed frozen in his spot, face anguished, like admitting this had trapped him in a moment.

"Coulson?"

There was no reply.

She was still afraid of herself, but there was something inside of her that couldn't leave him _that_ alone.

After a few steps towards him, she touched his arm, gently.

Blinking a few times, he turned towards her, like he was coming out of a fog.

"I've never told anyone," he said, his face contorting. "I was nine when it happened.  And, I barely remember. But, Garrett..."

She nodded, understanding. It had been used against him before. "Did SHIELD...?"

"Yes," he whispered. "He was a threat."

"I'm _so_...sorry," she said, looking up into his eyes, tears starting to form in hers.

"We're not like them," he said, staring down at the floor, saying it like he'd been repeating it to himself for a long time. "Our fathers."

"No," she answered, brushing her fingers against his face. "We're nothing like them."

His eyes slowly met hers, then connected with her emotions, and he moved against her first. His nose brushing against hers, then his mouth, as she leaned into him.  His hands lightly tracing over the contours of her body.

He hesitated when he touched the casts on her arms.

"Don't," she said. "I need this, too."

She pressed her lips against his, and then pushed his jacket down over his shoulders, past his arms. As his hands were freed, they gently drew her towards him again.

" _Please_...tell me what you're feeling."

"Afraid," she admitted, running her hands along his arms again. "Hopeful?"

"Me too," he said, smiling, smoothing her hair with his hand. "I..."

Shutting him up with kiss, she grabbed the front of his dress shirt and pulled him with her towards the bed.

They collapsed on top of it, his hands planting themselves on either side of her while carefully checking her over, as her hand made its way behind his neck to push their mouths closer together.

He groaned as she opened her mouth, pushing his tongue against hers, as though their connection could still somehow go deeper.

Everything she'd been fighting off was coming to the surface now. There was that switch in her again: let go of her control, or find a place for it to go. She felt herself start to panic.

" _Skye_?" he asked, stopping, his hair standing in opposing directions as she opened her eyes.

His mouth was hanging open. He looked so sweet. Boyish, even.

"I don't know how else to say this," she gulped in amazement. "But, I'm not...having a problem? I thought maybe I would."

"Skye."

"That's good, right?" she asked.

He didn't look happy. At all.

"Do you trust me?" she stated, locking eyes with him, and ran her fingers over his chin.

"Okay," he said, after a moment, standing up from the bed.

This is not what she wanted at all.

"But we're playing it safe," he continued, holding a finger up at her.

She watched him drop to his knees, his hands brushing against the fabric of her jeans against her thighs.

"For now, I'm in control."

Skye looked back at him, impressed, watching him bite down on his lower lip, waiting for her answer.

" _Hmph_."


End file.
